The Last Temptation of Goofy
by Dr. Jackstraw
Summary: Goofy's journey into despair and his chance at a new lease on life.


**The Last Temptation of Goofy**

_Author's Note: This story is intended to follow the events of Goof Troop and A Goofy Movie, but ignores the events of An Extremely Goofy Movie._

Chapter 1: Methods

He would have never guessed that it would end this way.

Still, he thought as he ascended the ladder, rope in hand, the wind whistling in his ears, there was only so much a man could take. Ever since Maxie had left for college – with nary a call or a letter or even a card after the first few months – life had taken a decided turn for the worse. As he tied one end of the rope to a sturdy branch of the apple tree, he pondered how he had been able to stand it this long. Everything he attempted invariably ended in failure. For Gawrsh sakes, he couldn't even make toast without setting his kitchen on fire. Maxie's lack of contact had cemented his fears of failure as a father. He had heard the boy was sharing an apartment with Roxanne, who was now 7 months pregnant. They had no plans to get married.

His only friend, if that was the right word, was a fat slob whose family no longer wanted anything to do with him, either, and Pete was far from the sort of company he preferred. Mickey had stopped calling years ago, and he didn't even know if Donald had made it back alive from his last deployment.

He climbed back down the ladder, quickly as he dared (though he wondered why he was concerned with his safety at a time like this), and admired his handiwork. From the sturdiest limb of the apple tree hung a noose, and from the looks of it, he was confident that it would be tighter than Scrooge McDuck's wallet. He looked up at the apple tree. It was a long way down.

"There," he said to himself, resolutely. "Even I couldn't screw that up. Hyu-"

The laugh died in his throat as he realized what exactly he was laughing at. Steeling himself for the moment of escape, he ascended the ladder once again. Standing on the stepladder's top rung, he slipped the noose around his neck with both hands. He sighed.

"Well, this is it. Goodbye, cruel world." He breathed deeply as he prepared to make the jump. He raised his head to the heavens. "Elizabeth! I'm comin' to join ya, hon-"

A sudden gust of wind swept the ladder out from underneath him. The dignified death he had planned for himself was now up in smoke. His gangly limbs flailed at bizarre angles as he tumbled through the air, and the rope was pulled taught – then snapped under his weight.

"YAAAAAA-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOOEY!" he hollered as he plummeted to the Earth. He felt the harsh embrace of Mother Earth as the ground broke his fall. The ladder soon fall on top of him with a thud. There he lay, broken noose still around his neck, sore, humiliated, but still very much alive, for the space of nearly an hour before he rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

"Gawrsh!" said Goofy, hanging his head in despair. "I can't do anything right!"

This was the end for sure, he reasoned to himself as he sat in his darkened living room, staring intently at the box that lay on the coffee table. Nothing could go wrong with this one. He wondered why he hadn't planned this to begin with. Quick, he thought to himself. Too quick to hurt. He had passed the background check easily enough, had been somewhat restless during the waiting period, but here it was, at last. He opened the box, and with trembling hands removed the gun and loaded it. He placed it against his temple and felt the cold sensation of deliverance.

"Take me to God's house in the sky," said Goofy, as he closed his eyes, placed his finger on the trigger, and squeezed it with a click.

Nothing.

An almost surreal feeling of unbelief washed over Goofy as he realized that the gun had not taken him on the promised journey. It was loaded. The men at the store had assured him it was fully functional. Goofy removed the barrel of the gun from his temple and peered down it. He pulled the trigger again. Nothing. He held the gun upside down and gave it a good shake, then struck it with the heel of his hand like someone trying to get ketchup out of an almost empty bottle.

Immediately, the gun discharged. The bullet ricocheted off a vase, against the screen of his television set, and out his window. From across the street, he heard the sound of a cat shrieking.

Disgustedly, the Goof tossed the gun aside and sprung to his feet.

"I won't give up that easily!" he proclaimed as he grabbed his hat and shrugged into his coat, slamming the door behind him as he left the house.

An hour later, he stood on the side of a bridge. The sun had now sunk below the horizon. Goofy Goof stood on the edge of the bridge, which now had only a few cars rolling past, all of which were ignorant of his presence. He looked down, down to the waters below, overlaid with fog, assured that they would wash away all his troubles. He glanced briefly at the telephone next to him, thinking of the irony. It felt like a bad a joke. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. This was it. He raised one foot, slowly, deliberately…

The phone started to ring.

Scowling, Goofy lifter the receiver and put it to his ear.

"Uh, hello, hyuck, Goofy speaking. How may I help you?"  
"Is your refrigerator running?" a disembodied voice managed to ask through its fits of giggling.

Enraged, Goofy slammed the receiver down, and, given strength by his fury, tore the entire telephone apparatus from the bridge and hurled it into the waters below. He would soon join it there. Not wishing to tempt fate with theatrics, he had resolved that he would give no speeches, make no final declaration. He closed his eyes, and jumped.

"YAAAAAA-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOOEY!"

At last, he thought, as the wind whistled in his ears, he had done it. As undignified as his life had been, he had at least been master of his own fate in the end. Soon, it would all be over.

Splash!

Was this it? Watery oblivion? No, it couldn't be. He was wet, but he hurt horribly. Had the water itself rejected him?

He opened his eyes, and found out that yet another monkey wrench had been thrown into his designs. While he was distracted by the telephone call and while his eyes had been closed, a ship had apparently been passing beneath the bridge. He had landed on deck, in some sort of large tub full of fish. As the crew of the vessel surrounded him, inquiring as to his health, he stomped his foot angrily.

"Aw, heck!" swore Goofy. "What the Gawrsh does a fella have to do to kill himself around here!"

"Goofy?" said a voice from within the fog, a voice that Goofy recognized at once in spite of the fact that he had not heard it in years. "Goofy Goof? Is that you?"

Out of the fog stepped none other than Donald Duck.


End file.
